What We Lost In The Storm
by Kawaii Snowdrop
Summary: And Luffy. Poor sweet Luffy, taken from the jaws of hell itself only to flinch away from touch when he once initiated it.
1. Chapter 1

_A shout, whipped away in the wind. The lurching sensation of falling and then cold, lonely darkness._

He comes back to life with a panicked gasp. Numbness tingles in his pale, shivering limbs; but he curls in on himself for comfort more than anything else. Harsh winds pound at his skin though his sodden clothes, and salt crumbles away from his eyes as he peels them open. Acid burns at the back of his throat; he retches, brine staining the sand like the shadows of light filtering though trees. For a few moments all his strength goes into listening to the comforting sound of the ocean and lowering his racing heartbeat.

 _Where am I?_ His mind whispers when he pushes himself up on unsteady legs, stiff from overuse. Fog swallows up the edges of the beach, but he can just make out thick foliage receding into whatever island he's washed up on, some part of him glad that he won't, at least, starve. Fatigue stretches his muscles taut like rigging on a ship, exhaustion feeling familiar when everything else doesn't.

Despite a growing headache, he fruitlessly searches for a last memory, a detail about his life, a name - _something_. Dread trickles down his neck and a sob wrenches unbidden from his quivering lips.

 _He is no one. He has no one. He is alone._

The pain of the last thought stings more than any of his cuts and scrapes bathed in seawater. His knees buckle, strength diminished and his head hangs.

 _He is alone_

* * *

Edit: there are formatting issues with this story that I can't fix, no matter how many times I try to. I ask that you please ignore them and enjoy the story!


	2. Questions

For anyone who might be confused, last chapter was the prologue and this is chapter one. I just felt reversing all the italics and whatnot would result in a loss of impact.

It's times like these when I ask myself: am I really starting a new story during the middle of my exams? Why yes, yes I am.

Because of this, this story is going to be pretty short and straightforward, with short chapters. It will focus primarily with the relationships of the characters. I'm sorry, but I can't guarantee any fast updates, especially in the next month or so.

But I will finish this eventually, I'm too emotionally invested not to XD.

Opinions/critiques are of course, always welcome :)

* * *

"Can you tell your name?"

He blinks at the bright intrusive light, spots dancing in his vision. The furry doctor barely glances up from his clipboard before furiously scribbling down notes, even as he distractedly puts away the torch with one hoof. He opens his mouth to speak - despite the rawness of his throat and the lack of an answer to even give - but all that escapes is a small wet cough. It's not surprising, despite the frustration burning in his mouth. He's only just stopped coughing up blood after all.

A few murmurs of the doctor - tanuki? - float through the air. _Head trauma ...concussion ...pupil dilation._ It makes his throbbing head spin just thinking about them. He's been in this dark barren room for almost an hour already; test after test after test. The mattress beneath him is hard and the blanket thin as he tugs it tighter around his trembling shoulders. The sterile air reeks of cleanliness and he chokes as he breathes in. All he ever wanted to do was sleep.

The past few hours have been rather blurry; swimming faces and gentle hands and a ship that reminds him of the sun. Glimpses of concerned faces as he's carried on board, muscles still thrumming with exhaustion.

"Your name?" The doctor prompts again, finally having finished writing.

"I don't know," the words taste foreign, like they're not meant to be said.

"Can you tell me your age?"

"I don't know."

"Your birth date?"

 _"I don't know."_

"Do you recognise me?" His eyes snap up to meet wide brown ones, and judging from the soft _eep_ the animal makes, the last question was asked on a whim. He feels his shoulders wilt inwards and he drops his gaze to the hat that he can't seem to stop clutching. The straw feels comfortingly rough underneath his fingertips and he can see where the flaxen has been ripped apart then sewn neatly together. It's clearly been on an adventure of some sort which quirks his lips (his heart aches - should  
he tell the doctor?) and he's grateful to whoever shoved it in his hands because it gives him something to show that this is reality and that he isn't in some sort of dream.

"Should I?" He can _feel_ the hurt in the sigh and the words have a bitter aftertaste.

"Ok," he hears the resignation, "perhaps we should start again. My name is Tony Tony Chopper and it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he says because there's probably someone in his life who makes it a point to be polite.

"Could you tell me the series of numbers I asked you to memorise ten minutes ago?"

"Uh...eight, five, nine...two...s-six?" More scribbling.

"Do you remember the explanation I gave you regarding your condition at the start of this meeting?"

"I-" _head trauma, concussion, pupil dilation_ , "I don't know."

"It's ok," he realises his face is hot and ducks his head.

"Your name is Monkey D Luffy."

He dimly realises that this should mean something to him. Like it should trigger something lost, something stolen. All he can do is whisper, "ok."

The doctor seems hesitant but asks, "would you like a mirror?"

He agrees, hoping that he won't feel so distant with himself for much longer. Fingers curl around cold glass, and he finds himself mildly surprised. He's like one big bruise, but underneath the cleaned cuts and scrapes there's tanned skin and dark hair and scars. One arched around an eye, one violently scratched across his chest. He doesn't recognise himself.

He gasps, vision blurring, the sound of shattering dim to his ears _. He doesn't recognise himself_. A hoof reaches out to him but he slaps it away, drawing inwards to make himself smaller, maybe they won't notice him.

"It's ok Luffy, you've been though a lot - it's ok to be upset..."

Heart races. Slick skin. Can't breathe.

He tumbles off the bed, writhing to get out of the blanket, _have to get out have to get out_ -

"Calm down!"

He can't trust doctors. Scrambling across the room, still partially tangled but with a burning determination despite the aches that flood his body he drags himself. He's so close to freedom, he won't let those bastards in white coats take it.

The glint of sunlight on metal and he's banging on the door, driving splinters into his hands. He has to get away, they're coming and he has people waiting for him-

But he has no one, right?

There's a sharp stinging sensation and the rush of icy liquid up his arm makes him stumble. Soft, furry hands catch him before he makes it to the ground and the room spins; he needs to get back to his...to his...

 _"...If only we could have reached you sooner..."_


	3. Trust Fall

The room dips like it's performing a duet by itself. It's a funny thought and he chuckles, headache stabbing into his skull. If only it would stop spinning however, then he could actually get out of the room that seems to be pressing down on him from all sides; much too small. He fidgets, it's either been ten minutes or ten hours but either way it's been far too long. He's bored, in this dull room with only his dull, throbbing pain for company. Plus, his stomach has been grumbling for a while now, making it harder for him to ignore the damn feeling.

He hums a tune under his breath; it reminds him of clouds and a goat for some reason. He feels the presence of others in close proximity, feel souls like eight blinding beacons. While it puts him on edge, there's nothing he can do until his own nausea fades somewhat. Toying with the sleeve of his patients' gown - mildly surprised that it's not stained with blood - he feels the soft fabric bend under his hands. What's it like, he wonders, to beat people down and to crush their dreams and to have complete control of their life almost as if they-

The door creaks and he sees a flash of blond hair poke out, "so he has Retrograde Amnesia then?"

"That's my diagnosis, but I'll have to do a few more tests to make sure," high voice, reindeer, looks kind of cuddly...Chipper? No, Chopper, that's his name. The doctor.

He tenses at this thought - _can't trust them, not again_ \- and gazes warily to meet the eyes on the blond man. He can feel the power concealed behind the sleek suit and tie and psyches himself up to fight if necessary. His wounds throb but it's an ignorable pain. The man's obviously surprised, visible eye widening, but manages to hide it somewhat with a belated, "oh, you're awake."

He looks at the tray in the man's hand; filled with food; fruit and soup and steaming hot bread. It's deliciously tempting, and his mouth waters and fingers twitch before he imposes his self-control and settles for a glare. Not this time. Not again.

"Oh Luffy," Chopper peeks around the man's legs, "I didn't expect the sedatives to wear off so soon - are you hungry?"

He continues to stare the man down, hands clenched in the sheets. The straw hat sits on the desk opposite and the sudden urge to pull it over his face to hide his expression is staggering. He feels exposed and raw and vulnerable.

"This is Sanji," Chopper continues, seemingly oblivious to the boy's conflicting emotions, "I asked him to bring some food that wouldn't upset your stomach in case you wanted some."

He shakes his head, the sting of self-betrayal prickling in his stomach. He ignores it in favour of watching the man's - Sanji's? - hands shake slightly and put the tray down with deliberate calm. His heart palpitates as the man strides across the room to cup his chin with one hand.

"What happened?" the anger in the voice is tangible, and he tries to shrink back but the grip on his face is firm, "what did they _do_ to you?"

"Sanji," Chopper says, nervously tugging at the man's clothes, "perhaps you should go outside for a few moments-"

"I know you're hungry," the man continues, "you need to eat."

 _I'm confused_ , he wants to say _, I feel so alone and it hurts_. Instead he ends up snarling, "let go!"

He pushes against the man's chest sharply and streaks past him, blanket tumbling to the floor and colours blending together as the room continues to spin relentlessly. He hears the thump of the man falling behind him and his startled shout as he grasps the door handle like a lifetime and thrusts it open. There's no time to acknowledge the guilt swelling inside.

If the bang from the door slamming against the wall didn't alert the inhabitants of the next room then his sudden dive for a kitchen knife certainly does. He points it at the people - _and skeleton? That's kind of cool_ \- gathered around a dinner table, forks halfway to their mouths with food slipping off.

A sudden cry of, "Luffy!" from Chopper and he's stumbling towards another door, slightly ajar with a sliver of sky blue showing.

A hand grasps his wrist and halts him, a man with a stony expression and three, glinting katanas. He's powerful and dangerous and the boy swipes blindly with the knife only to have it knocked away with little more than a hand flick. A sudden ache shoots up his arm from his grip and he tries to pull away only to watch his arm _stretch_.

He's taking breaths but not breathing, struggling in this man's grip until he somehow finds the strength to tear away, leaving calls of a name - his name - in his wake. This must be an illusion, just like the others. People don't move like that, he knows that much, even if the feeling of wood grain under his skin feels authentic enough.

Sun blinks into his eyes and for a second he's blinded but then he adjusts and the sky has never looked so beautiful. Though he can count the number of times he's seen the sky on one hand, so it's likely he's talking rubbish.

He clambers onto the railing, eyes set on the island the ship must've left a while ago. It's but a speck in the distance and his legs are already shaking from expending his energy for so long, but it's his only chance. He has to take it.

"Luffy," a woman's voice this time, gasping, "Luffy, don't!"

"Don't call me that," he rasps, whipping his head round to glare at her. Her ginger hair floats in the breeze around her heaving shoulders and he watches as she waves the others back. Part of the weight pressing down on his chest loosens a little.

"Ok," she agrees readily, "Ok. Just come down, you can't swim."

"How do you know?" He demands, arms quivering, "you know _nothing_."

Several long moments pass, and he scowls at the rest of the people gathered on the deck. His brain is foggy, and full-blown panic is just around the corner. Even so, the island is getting further away every second he wastes talking to this group of people...this crew...

"I know you're confused and overwhelmed, but we'll tell you everything if you just give us the chance and listen," pleading, she's pleading. Desperate for him to get off the railing. Despite the distrust going haywire at the back of his mind, he can see no malice in her expression. She looks earnest, eyes wide and body language open.

For the first time, he really looks at his surroundings. Soft grass and a swing and in the distance, a flower garden. It's a stark contrast to the base...

"Please," the woman repeats holding up a hand, just far enough away that he feels completely unthreatened by it, "my name is Nami, we're nakama."

"Nami," he spells slowly, finding it difficult to concentrate now, "nakama..."

"Yes," the hope in her face warms him somehow, and he can't help but smile a little, "nakama - will you please come down for me?"

The hand is still outstretched, palm up, golden bracelets clinking on a slim wrist. He has nobody and he's so terribly, terribly alone but...maybe he doesn't have to be. He reaches out tentatively, turning around on the railing to full face her. The smile on her face is contagious and a burden he didn't even realised he carried lifts slightly. Their fingers touch, their eyes lock and for once he feels like he's made the right decision.

And then his foot slips.

* * *

I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I've already done quite a lot of cleaning so hopefully it's ok :)

Retrograde amnesia – when past memories are forgotten, as opposed to repressing them due to trauma or being unable to create new memories.


	4. Beginnings

Guess who's back back back, back again gain gain-

Yeah I'm really sorry, life got in the way and while I'm still very busy, I'm trying to put this higher on my list of priorities. I'm sorry if this chapter's really short but hopefully it's ok and I'll try and update sooner in the future :)

0X0

The second he hits the water he knows he's a dead man.

The cold slap of water steals the oxygen from his lungs and stabs his skin with tiny needles of pain. He sinks instantly, no chance to fight as his energy is washed away with a particularly strong wave. The world's spinning, lurching, tumbling. Flipping over and over till it settles as a hard knot in his stomach. Dread fills his mind but he can't help but think that perhaps he was dying before he started to drown.

He's at the mercy of the ocean, powerless in a fight against his natural enemy. And he realises that now. How could he have ever hoped to defeat this monster with the sea salt whip? How could he fight back when he can barely feel his limbs and his lungs burn?

The water gradually grows darker as he continues to sink - a steady pressure on his chest becoming unbearable. A fish darts past his limbs, tickling his skin and perhaps he would have laughed at the sensation if his head were above water. The distant sunlight ripples with the water and he finds it oddly strange that he gets to witness such beauty in his final moments.

His eyes sting horribly but he dares not close them in fear of the darkness already pooling his vision. Luffy knows he does not have long left but his mind flits back to the concerned looks of the crew before he fell. He's so used to the harsh glares of the scientists that it confuses him.

He coughs, lungs on fire and seawater rushes in while air bubbles out. He attempts to swallow only to gag on the salt clinging to his throat. He's suffocating, pain lacing throughout his body, seaweed curling around his arms.

The last thing he sees before the darkness consumes him whole is a flash of green amongst the blue. The last thing he feels is a firm grip on his shirt tugging upwards.

0X0

Someone pushes rhythmically down on his chest until he chokes up seawater. He gasps, oxygen stinging his lungs in the best way as he drinks it up. The nausea swimming inside dulls his senses but he can still feel hands wiping his wet fringe off his face and helping him sit up. He'd bat them away if he weren't so exhausted, and the touch so soothing.

Someone wraps him in a large, fluffy towel and he's practically cradled against a hard, cold chest - limbs folding in like origami - hearing, "that was a super big fall you had bro!"

Coughs come from the side and he hears Chopper frantically asking questions. The green haired man is peeling off his shirt and cursing but he notices the relief carefully concealed behind the stern eyes.

"You saved me," he whispers, dumbfounded and suddenly feeling small, "why?"

"We're nakama," Nami says, taking his hand before he can jerk it away and instantly massaging it, "gosh, you're cold - guys, let's get him inside!"

"Perhaps it's time for hot chocolate, Cook-san?" another woman's voice this time, syrupy smooth and gentle.

A series of agreements later and he's hoisted more securely in the man's arms - he can't quite find the strength to struggle - and being taken back towards the room he just escaped. Not that it really looks as threatening now. In fact, while he's hesitant to admit it, it seems warm and welcoming in a way he's never thought about before.

So then, in the next ten minutes he's given fresh, soft clothes then promptly bundled in a small mountain of blankets. Chopper gives him a check-up, which makes the panic flutter again; but it's in front of everyone and they all look so _genuine_ that he allows himself to relax for the first time since he woke up on that island he's suddenly glad he's so far away from now.

A bowl of soup is nudged into his numb hands and he looks up to see Sanji looking at him almost urgently, "please, I can't let you go hungry."

The panic spikes again and he sharply pushes it away shaking his head vehemently. It slops on the table, spilling out, and the rest of the crew pauses, apprehensive. Whatever they're waiting - bracing? - for however doesn't happen as Sanji sighs, looking disappointed and swiftly cleans up the mess with a cloth.

He's hesitantly asked if he wants most of them to leave, and feels oddly ashamed when he nods. While he doesn't want to be alone, the crowd around him causes anxiety to constantly bubble inside and his strained emotions finally take a break when the door closes quietly behind them. Nami and Chopper stay along with the other woman - introduced as Robin - who emits a calming presence that makes his tense shoulders sag.

And so the little group gathers close, around the abandoned dinner table still piled with food and promptly tells him everything. It's a strange tale, one of fruits and devils and pirates. He's not entirely sure he believes it, but it does explain the stretching. His eyes grow heavy, and thoughts sluggish before he can really argue against the case however and he slips sideways only to be caught by multiple arms spawned out of the table and floor. How strange...

He feels an arm curl around his shoulders, and something cool touches his mouth. He drinks deeply from the water offered, liquid feeling soothing against his raw throat. Head dropping sleepily onto the girl with the hair that reminds him of fruit, her hand strokes his hair till his eyes close and struggle to open again.

He's so very tired...

Murmurs coax him further into a slumber, kind smiles hovering over him. It's so warm and cosy and _safe_ that for once he doesn't care about making himself vulnerable in front of almost-strangers. His sudden burst of energy earlier finally catches up to him and he drifts off the rocking of somebody's footsteps.

0X0

I hope this story isn't feeling rushed; I'm trying to show Luffy's adjustment slowly but of course since he's such a good judge of character and "goodness" (plus the fact that he's not a distrustful person at his core) that it seemed silly to make him view the strawhats as enemies for long. Let me know if I've messed up the pacing though, it's hard to tell when you're writing.

(I should probably note that there are no pairings in this story, only nakamaship *thumbs up*)

Oh and the whole massaging thing? That was to stimulate the skin and the body's circulation system to try and warm Luffy up. I don't know about you, but my mum always did that to me if I was cold when I was little XD

Any questions let me know :)


	5. Broth

He wakes to the sensation of someone tracing the lines of his palm, touch tentative but gentle - it tickles, almost, and he stirs to feel the weave of the cloth against his cheek. The touch retracts immediately and he's grateful, for all a part of him yearns to have more of this soft kindness.

He blinks sleepily up at the streaming sun and another kind of golden - Sanji's hair. He can barely hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, shame and fear igniting just beneath the surface. He doesn't deserve kindness; he's the son of the devil, with evil, disgusting blood within his-

"You have so many scars on your hands," Sanji's musing shatters his thoughts, and he almost dares to look up. The remark is spontaneous yet with obvious thought behind it and he's not sure how to react - he doesn't know how Sanji expects him to react, "can you sit up?"

He tries, but his muscles - already overused and stiff and twinging with fatigue - tremble with the effort, and he collapses back on the bed. Sanji reaches out for him and his body flinches away before his mind catches up and allows himself to be lifted up by his armpits. The man adjusts his pillows and covers till he's comfortable again - he melts gratefully into the fabric - and lifts a bowl of soup from the bedside cabinet.

"Are you hungry?" the man asks kindly, noticing the boy eyeing the food. Even as he fears Sanji's possible reactions his decline, he can't trust food anymore; remembers the agony that shivered through his veins and circled around his stomach, nausea that stabbed his head till he sobbed against the wet rock. He shakes his head with a grimace, feeling another swirl of guilt at Sanji's disappointed expression.

"What's wrong?" He asks gently, watching Luffy's shoulders creep towards his ears, "you can tell me, I won't hurt you."

To his horror, Luffy notices his eyes beginning to burn - _don't cry, too weak, must get stronger_ \- and casts his gaze downwards, feeling the unnatural yet strong sense to hug himself to keep his tired emotions together. A hand presents itself in his line of vision and he looks up, startled. He searches Sanji's expression for anger and impatience but seeing none, looks down at the hand again. It's palm up, open, and he recognises the gesture as the one Nami used when she tried to save him. Taking a deep breath, he grasps the hand in his, heart leaping into his throat when Sanji's hand tightens in turn - but relaxes when he notices it's not tight enough to feel enforced and he can pull away at any time. He doesn't want to, strangely.

"What's wrong?" He's asked again, and it takes a long time to find the words, simple as they are, and work them around the lump in his throat.

"Poison," voice scratching and painful, "it's all poison. It hurts. They laughed."

Sanji looks furious for a second, teeth clenched, and visible eye narrowed to a slit. Luffy tenses and starts to pull away, breath catching, and just like that the expression is gone, replaced with a neutral yet closed off one.

"Thank you for telling me," his voice is quiet. He ponders for a while and Luffy thinks he's done something wrong until the blond man suddenly says, "would it help if I ate it with you?"

The question throws him off balance, but even so he's hesitant. His apprehension must be palpable within the air around them, but Sanji actually perks up slightly, "are you sure? All the more for me then."

He retracts his hand to pick up the spoon, and Luffy almost misses it. He watches as Sanji closes his eyes on the first spoonful and make a long _mmm_ sound, "this is really delicious you know, I think I've outdone myself."

His stomach growls in hunger and he glares at the betrayal. Sanji smirks, taking another drawn-out mouthful, "I'm really glad I put so much chicken and ham into this, they really compliment the vegetables - all juicy...and tender..."

His mouth waters and he stares at the soup, practically drooling as he watches Sanji take another agonising mouthful before he notices his arm reaching out for the bowl himself. Sanji grins full out, "you want some too?" he finds himself nodding without permission, still staring, "it's a good thing I brought another spoon then, isn't it?"

He fishes the extra piece of cutlery out of his pocket and hands it over to Luffy who's annealed fingers bend awkwardly around the metal. His movements are shaky and weak as he tries to feed himself till Sanji takes pity on him and helps. He allows himself to be fed like an infant, one of Sanji's hands cupped around the back of his head to lift it from the pillow and stop the liquid from dribbling down his chin. It goes against everything he's told himself so far, but the sheer happiness in the chef's face makes his doubts dissolve into a steamy mist that smells of vegetables. It's so smooth and warming with a flavour he'd gladly die for. He doesn't even notice at first that Sanji lets him have the rest of the bowl, even though he'd said they were sharing it. It makes him feel a little guilty.

Eventually nausea swims in his head and he turns away from the final offered mouthful, closing his eyes against the sickness. While the feeling makes him panic for a moment - is it the poison again? - it passes quickly, although leaving him exhausted.

"Well done," he hears Sanji say, "you managed almost all of that, I'm proud of you." He lets Luffy back down on the bed, ruffling his hair as he retracts his hand to gather up the bowl and utensils, "I'll send Chopper in ok? I'm sure he'd like to...say hello now that you're awake."

Luffy watches him leave, door shutting quietly behind him and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He sinks further into the pillow and waits uncertainly - not sure if he can face another person today.

In the stillness of the room he brings a hand up to his hair and smiles slightly.

0X0

Sanji storms out of the infirmary, shoulders tense and grip tight on the bowl in front of him. He almost slams the ceramic into the sink, wants to throw a dinner knife at the wall (because even still there's a rational part of him that says his kitchen knives are too precious to be used like that) until a hoof lightly touches his leg and he wilts against the cabinet.

"Sanji?" Chopper asks hesitantly, "are you ok?"

"What's wrong Curly-brow," he hears the marimo ask roughly, echoing his own words to his captain earlier. The thought of the boy, all bones and eyes and fear, curled inwards on the clean sheets makes him scowl. Poor, sweet Luffy. Taken from the jaws of hell itself only to flinch away from touch when he once initiated it.

He spins around to meet the gaze of the marimo, because Zoro _knows_ Luffy, "they poisoned his meals. They laughed at him while he suffered."

Chopper makes a sound of despair, and Zoro's eyes narrow before he swears colourfully. Sanji wants to say a few choice words himself. Those absolute bastards. How dare they torture his captain till he's afraid of eating of all things, when his metabolism is so damn high? How could they be so inhumane?

It takes a while for the doctor's poor brain to catch up with his emotions, "but I thought he had a high tolerance for poison?"

"It's probably the only reason he's alive right now," he growls, "I managed to get him to eat the majority of a bowl of broth, but it was a struggle. He was so afraid."

"I shouldn't leave him alone if he's awake,"

Chopper says then faintly, "no wonder he's so emaciated." He disappears through the door to his office quickly.

Sanji leans heavily against the edge of the sink for support. He's so tired, of seeing that blank look in Luffy's eyes when he's scared, like he's shutting down on the inside and the slightest touch will shatter him into a thousand pieces. Their dreams have never seemed so far away.

"Hey," Zoro's voice cuts through his thoughts, "don't you dare start doubting, if we stop having faith in our captain, then how'll he ever learn to have faith in himself again?"

The marimo holds his gaze for a few, long moments till he finds whatever he's looking for and gives a sharp nod before turning and departing too.

Sanji sighs, long and weary, before getting out a stack of paper and begins to make a food plan to introduce solids as soon as possible.

0X0

It's my own personal headcanon that touch is as important to Luffy as hands are to Sanji - except in Luffy's case it's been drastically exploited. I hope you found that integrated quite heavily within this chapter - but most importantly that you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading, KS x


	6. Progress

_Sunlight splatters the ground, the scent of freshly washed earth dripping between lush, towering vegetation. He's running, laughing even as he struggles to keep up with two figures sprinting between branches far ahead. He calls a name, two but they don't stop - he doesn't mind, there's crocodile meat for dinner and his little legs speed up at the thought. Something bounces against his back, he's lighter than air and ready to float on the soft breeze, but then he's tumbling, world spilling into bleeding colours and painful gasps._

 _Gunshots, sickening screams, the suffocating stench of smoke and a frigid air that battles with his burning muscles. He's trembling with fatigue and stress as he forces himself up, keep moving, keep living, reach him in time. Everyone's yelling, there's so many people, so many enemies - the dying, the sick, the scared. He's terrified. Left foot, Right foot. Run, run, breathe. Dodge. Stumble. Fall._

 _Far above there's a goal, a figure he's desperate to reach even as a million obstacles stand in his way. Swords glint above a bare neck, a threat and a promise. He has to reach him in time, he has to, Ac-_

 _He's too late._

 _He shatters with his own scream._

A tentative hand touches his arm and he startles, twisting around to face a woman with eyes as wide as his.

"I'm sorry," ginger hair. Gold bracelet. Nami. "You looked like you were in pain, so I woke you up."

He releases a shuddering breath and relaxes slightly, his muscles too sore to be alert for long. The window shows a rapidly deepening sky and stars just starting to peek through stormy clouds. He watches as Nami carefully places an orange... _something_ on the bedside table and sits on the chair next to him, looking pensive.

"If you want to be alone I'll leave," she starts, wringing her hands jerkily, though he's too tired to be bothered by the motion, "but I know if I'd just experienced a nightmare I would want someone to at least sit with me."

He nods at this, stomach churning in leftover anxiety and stress and glancing at the growing shadows in the corners of the room. Nami was the one that held his hand when the other woman explained everything about him being rubber and stuff right? She's kind.

There's a pause where they Nami looks a little lost, something sad reflected in her eyes he's on the verge of understanding but can't quite. She hesitantly picks up and gives the _something_ to him, waxy texture under his fingertips soothing.

"This is a mikan," Nami begins to explain, lighting an oil lamp that fights back the darkness with a soft glow, "it's a kind of orange - would you like to share it with me?"

He nods again, not feeling particularly hungry but wanting something to do. She shows him how to peel it, but his sore joints mean she ends up doing most of the work. He's a little fascinated with the juicy segments that look like tiny parcels and after Nami shows him how to eat it - and the paranoid part of his stupid brain finally decides to shut up - he's happy to have a go too. The tangy sweetness soothes his sore and tight throat.

"I have my own section of the ship where I grow these," Nami tells him, a wistful look twisting her features, "they're hard to protect in storms but it's comforting to know I have a piece of my home island with me at all times."

And so Luffy listens. And he learns. About a mother and a sister and an orchard; a fishman and a deal that lead to a difficult childhood full of living on the wrong side of the law because the law did nothing to help, _but if I could just save my village then everything would be worth it, ya know?_

He's relieved, in a way. With every sentence Nami's tense shoulders relax and the tightness around her eyes lessens. It's cathartic to listen as well, with no expectations of responding that would stress him when he's still feeling vulnerable - flashes of the nightmare still pulsating every time he closes his eyes. They both need this, in the quiet of dusk and bathed both in shadows and light.

And when he eyes begin to droop, because he's still so frustratingly far from healing, Nami smiles and says she'll stay _to guard you from things perhaps you'd really rather forget_. His sleepy brain is too foggy to figure out what she means by this, so he focuses on her expression, and the way the tension between her eyebrows seems to melt away. The last thing he sees before he falls asleep is her soft eyes and the mikan peel discarded on the bedside table.

0X0

"Your bruises are healing up nicely," Chopper fills the oppressive silence, covering up the sting of hurt at Luffy's expression with a swift layer of professionalism, "I expect them to clear completely over the next week or so."

Luffy tugs at his fingers nervously, stretching them a few centimetres then watching as the recoil makes them wobble. Chopper knows he's listening however, judging from the faint relieved sigh and the way his captain submerges himself further into the pillows.

"Have you experienced any dizziness?" He asks, not surprised at all when his charge nods, "any head pain, hot or cold flashes?" affirmative to both - not good. He makes a note in his medical journal, frowning at previous citations about the lack of any change in any conditions except superficial wounds. Which reminds him...

"May I check your head injury?" Hesitation. Chopper knows by now that the seemingly unbreakable trust between them has shattered; doesn't blame him for taking him at occupational level after the hints of what he went through - but it still hurts. He implores, "please, there could be so many complications if it gets infected."

Luffy looks a bit lost at this, confusion intermingled with reluctance, but he lifts his hands and clumsily undoes the bandages tied tightly to his head; revealing quite possibly the key to his condition and the cause of many sleepless nights researching. A few centimetres above his right eyebrow is a horrific bruise, spread artistically over a large bump. Three small wounds, barely larger than pricks, all equally spaced and centred exactly within the bump. It's far from the messy, bloody head wounds Chopper has had to deal with in the past - with severer repercussions too, and a kind of _thoughtfulness_ behind them that makes his blood boil. It's been healing slower than any of the other wounds as well, he disappointedly notes.

"Luffy," he starts cautiously, because his captain has never seemed so fragile, "do you remember how you gained that head wound?"

Luffy flinches, startled and scared and oh god, he's hyperventilating - not again. "Hey hey, deep breaths, breathe."

He finds himself holding a hoof up - intent on getting his captain's attention to begin treatment - but gasps when Luffy suddenly clings to it with both hands instead. He stares intensely at his tight grip and starts to breathe slower, deeper - forcing himself to calm down. Chopper feels hope well up inside as he sees a determined glint in his captain's eyes as he grounds himself in his anxiety.

"I'm sorry," he speaks quietly, "you don't have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable," a quiet revelation, whispered from the back of his frazzled mind yet yanks the floor from beneath his feet, "In fact, you can say no at any time and I'll understand."

The confusion is back but with a strong degree of relief and hope this time, but Chopper feels a sinking feeling in his stomach, "Luffy, you always have a choice here - you know that don't you?"

Apparently, he didn't judging from the tears gathering in the corners of Luffy's eyes. Maybe his injuries aren't the most urgent matter at hand after all, and Chopper feels suddenly miserable, "I know I'm a doctor, but I'm also a friend and your emotional wellbeing means more to me than anything."

Still holding onto his hoof, Luffy meets his eyes with a teary gaze, a small and sloppy smile curling the edges of his mouth, "friends."

Feeling older than his seventeen human years, Chopper wants to cry and cling to the man who was an unshakable rock until a few weeks ago. He'd prioritised his charge's physical recovery because it was more urgent at the time, but this should have changed immediately after he knew Luffy was stable. _Of course_ , the boy still avoided eye contact like it would lead to inevitable pain. _Of course_ , he would take him as a doctor first and a person second - he had no reason not to. Rebuilding trust was the key to his emotional, mental and physical recovery; and it was time he stopped viewing his patient as rubber in every sense of the word - able to bounce back with a smile every time. Here was a broken teenager who obviously felt desperately alone - and his doctor had ignored it in favour of living in the past.

"Friends," throat tight with shame he agrees.

0X0

I'm sorry I haven't updated in a few months, but this week has really been the first in a long time where I haven't had to stay up really late to keep up on all my subjects, exams and assignments. I'm finally starting to get a healthy amount of sleep and can focus on things other than school for once. Please bear with me and hopefully I can update sooner in the future.

Second, I eally can't fix all the formatting issues in the early chapters, even though I've tried quite a few times now. So I'm thinking of cross posting this to AO3 just to give you a heads up.

Have a great week! KS x


End file.
